You're the Only Thing I Know Like The Back of My Hand (2/2) [Kurt/Finn]

[preferthemoss]

Title: You're the Only Thing I Know Like The Back of My Hand
Author:preferthemoss
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Finn Hudson
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Background/past Quinn/Brittany, Tina/Mike, Rachel/Puck, Puck/Santana, and Will/Emma.
Spoilers: General series overall. Nothing major, and as long as you know who Blaine is, I'd call it good.
Words: 17,00
Summary: When Blaine starts seeing his friendship with Kurt as potential for more, Kurt fears ruining the solidity of their relationship by tainting it with the drama of a romance. Unable to reject him directly, he choses the "I'm already seeing someone" route, crowning Finn as the someone in question. Finn plays along with Kurt's lie for a while, willing to do anything for the boy who is not only his step-brother, but quickly becoming his best and most cherished friend. After a while, the lines between the lie and their reality blur, and Finn finds himself in the middle of a crisis.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. (Read full disclaimer here.)
Notes: Written for renrenren3 in the gleesecretsanta 2010 exchange. Thanks to corvx143 for all his help, and being my cheerleader at all hours of the night while I was ready to set this entire thing on fire. Title by Taylor Swift.

Mini-soundtrack here.

Prompts Used; Kurt-Centric, Kurt/Finn, Quinn/Brittany, Will/Emma, "Fooling around in the snow, making snowmen, having epic snowball battles and then drinking lots of hot chocolate to recover", Fake!Boyfriends, "or, you could have everyone in New Directions (having a sleepover) together, maybe during a school/field trip?", side-pairings, past relationships, "making out and cuddling that doesn't necessarily lead up to sex".



"Finn, I'm sorry," Kurt tried again, words soft and desperate as he followed Finn around the basement, face clean and clear and free of that sticky blue shit he was usually wearing on it by this time of night.

"Yeah," Finn replied on a sigh, folding his laundry into his dresser for lack of anything better to do.

"How was I supposed to know that this would happen?" Kurt asked quietly, and Finn sighed deeply, exaggeratedly, as he shook his head.

"What are we going to do about it, Kurt?" He asked by way of reply. "Everyone knows about us now! Or, at least, they think they know about us, anyway," he reminded snarkily, feeling a headache start behind his eyes as he folded his boxers into the top drawer.

"We... we can't tell them the truth, you know," Kurt started shakily, sounding scared and unsure as Finn continued to fold. "You saw the look Santana gave him, she wants him, Finn."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Finn asked incredulously, abandoning his clothes as he turned to face Kurt. "Santana wants everyone!"

"She's gonna keep hitting on Blaine every chance she gets! Which means she's gonna have to talk to him, and being that you and I are collectively the only thing the two of them have in common, she will talk about us, Finn. And if she knows, or even thinks that we're not really dating, you know she'll tell him. She's still looking for ways to ruin you after you refused to sleep with her last year," Kurt threw out angrily, voice louder now as he leaned against the wall.

"So, let her tell him, then!"

"Finn! If Blaine finds out that I lied to him, he'll be twice as upset as if I just flat out rejected him in the first place, which is kind of the whole reason why we're in this mess."

"Well if you would have just had the decency not to be a total cocktease, and told him that you weren't into him in the first place, none of this would have happened!" Finn threw back suddenly, swallowing hard as he leaned over Kurt's body, hands flat against the wall on either side of Kurt's head, as Kurt's responding silence washed over them.

"Wh... what did you just call me?" Kurt asked softly, and Finn was aware now that his breath was hitching painfully in his chest, as he kept Kurt pressed tightly against the wall.

"Nothing," Finn denied, unwilling to repeat the word he'd never even intended to say in reference to Kurt. "I'm sorry," he apologized finally, letting one arm drop, as the other stayed against the wall.

"Me too," Kurt answered distractedly, eyes on Finn's face, but... not on his eyes. "I should never have dragged you into thi--"

"No," Finn interrupted, shaking his head as he watched a thousand emotions flicker over Kurt's face. "I... I would have done the same or worse," he insisted. "In fact, I'm sure I have done worse, at some point," he admitted softly, closing his eyes to block out Kurt's face, before opening them again. "I just... we... we still have to make sure that mom and Burt never hear of this, and I do mean ever," he insisted, and Kurt softened visibly in front of him, slumping between Finn's body and the wall, as he smiled softly.

"You don't hate me now?" He questioned almost fearfully, as he leaned against Finn's chest.

Finn wrapped both arms around him tightly, as he shook his head, eyes focused on the wall. "Couldn't even if I tried."

Finn worked clumsily to strap Artie's wheelchair into the back of his mom's minivan, playing an awkward game of Tetris as he tried to fit his, Kurt's, Artie's and Puck's weekend bags around it.

"Thanks for this Finn, I... I know you don't really like to drive," Artie said again from the seat he was already buckled into in the back, the fifth time he'd thanked him already that day.

"Seriously, dude, it's no problem. I'm glad you can come now," Finn answered back seriously, smiling as Mister Schue walked up behind him.

"So Finn, you just follow Sam's car, okay? He's gonna follow me, and I'll be following Emma," He reminded for the sixtieth time that day. "But in case you lose sight of us, you do have that map I gave you, right?"

"Uh, well actually... Kurt has it," Finn corrected, nodding in Kurt's direction. "He's better at handling stuff like that," Finn added after a moment, seeing everyone within earshot tense almost awkwardly around him as he mentioned Kurt's name.

"Okay, perfect," Will clapped his hands suddenly, breaking the moment that Finn wished had never happened in the first place. "Sam? Start 'er up, we're ready to hit the road."

"Is this really going to be a 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole' kind of trip? Because I'm finding your music terribly boring this evening, Finn," Kurt lilted from the passenger seat, much to Puck's amusement.

"Uh oh," he started from the back of the van, where he'd chosen to sit next to Artie.

"What?" Finn met his eyes in the rearview mirror, seeing something on his face that he surely did not like.

"Lover's spat," Puck shrugged smugly, and Finn bit his lip to hold back any rebuttal.

It'd been less than twenty-four hours since Blaine's awkward show of letting the cat out of the bag, and although Finn would rather die than continue to be on the receiving end of all the judgmental and wondering looks that'd been getting tossed around, it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected.

For the most part, not a lot had changed so far. People made their jokes, yes, filling Finn with an uneasy urge to punch them in the face. But, he was realizing now more than ever that... he had good friends, and... suffering through a few awkward jokes at his expense was a small price to pay for Kurt's happiness.

"Yeah, yeah," Finn rolled his eyes playfully, unable to stop the grin from spreading over his face as he shook his head, ejecting his latest burned CD in permission to let Kurt replace it.

"Whoa wait," Finn's hand shot out suddenly, eyes flickering between the road and the purple disk in Kurt's hand, as he wrapped his fingers around Kurt's wrist. "What is that?" He asked tentatively, because while he'd built up a tolerance, and even an appreciation for the show tunes Kurt was so in love with over the last few months, Puck sure as hell wouldn't be okay with that shit.

"Don't worry, Finn," Kurt soothed seriously, "I've accounted for Noah's presence," he insisted smugly, before pushing the disk into the player on the dash.

"Whoa!" Puck's voice was loud and pleased from the back seat. "Dude, you listen to The White Stripes?"

Kurt smiled easily in the passenger seat, and Finn tossed him a grateful look.

No, Kurt Hummel did not listen to The White Stripes. But, yes, he'd definitely learned that if there was any band that could shut Puck up... it was that one.

"Holy shit, Schue, when you said 'cabin', I didn't know you meant 'dream house'," Santana mused bluntly as they stood in front of the dark wooden building, more like a full-time home, than the shack that most Lima kids would consider an actual cabin.

"Well, let's do our best to keep it clean and in shape while we're here, okay guys?" Will asked by way of reply, before coming to stand in front of the group of students who'd piled out of three cars and a minivan, bundled up in their winter jackets and scarves, as they stood in the snow that was much deeper out there than it was in town. "Now, before we even set foot inside this place, I wanna go over a couple of rules," he started, prompting a chorus of groans from the students. "Since this isn't school property, school time, or a school trip, not all school rules apply, okay?" He asked loudly, words echoing off the trees around them, as the sun began to set, casting them in a dark shadow. "Starting now, you can call Miss Pillsbury and I by our first names if you wish, and we won't enforce language or dress codes," he explained seriously. "However, please guys... use your better judgement. We won't allow you to curse like sailors, or walk around in your underwear, and of course, sex, drugs and alcohol will be completely unpermitted," he warned seriously, before gesturing toward the cars. "Now let's get unpacked!"

The cabin turned out to be nicer than the house Finn and Carole used to live in, all wooden floors and ceilings, warm colors and soft carpets. Carl had apparently had some sort of dream to open a Bed and Breakfast, which was exactly what he and Emma had intended to do with this building.

It had a lot of loft style rooms, rather than separate bedrooms for each bed. Instead, the students learned that they'd be split up by gender, sharing one huge room with multiple beds with their fellow classmates. Finn had smiled softly at that, realizing it'd been six whole years since he and Puck had last had an actual sleepover.

"Does this place have electricity?" Brittany asked slowly, flicking the light switch beside her on and off, which was, in turn, causing the bulb above her head to brighten and dim.

"Oh, Britt," Quinn smiled fondly, grabbing Brittany's hand, before moving it away from the switch.

Finn worked on unpacking the food into the fridge and cupboards, with Kurt by his side, pulling the groceries out of the bags that they'd all gone shopping for before leaving town. Part of the agreement their parents had had to sign was to let each student spend twenty dollars on food for the trip collectively, since feeding twelve teenagers on Will and Emma's dime would have cost, well... a whole lot of dimes.

"What the hell is this," Finn asked distractedly, reading the label on a plastic container of... yeah, no.

He still didn't know what it was.

"It's tofu, Finn," Kurt answered for him, pointing to the fridge as he realized that Finn clearly had no idea what to do with it. "It's healthy," he stated simply, and Finn just shrugged as he tossed it onto a shelf.

"Hey," Finn laughed suddenly, leaning against the counter as he grinned brightly at Kurt. "Did you bring all your Girly Stuff?" He questioned playfully, using their code name for Kurt's arsenal of facemasks and cleansers.

"No, Finn," Kurt laughed in embarrassment, "Why, do you think I should have?" He asked after a moment, serious now, and Finn only laughed harder.

"No," he shook his head, "I thought that stuff was only for people who aren't already pretty," he reminded sheepishly, wondering when exactly it'd become okay to flirt with Kurt Hummel.

"I still think we should watch The Sound of Music," Will insisted again, as Puck fought him on it continuously.

"Dude, you made us watch that twice in Glee already," he moaned, ripping the DVD case out of Will's hands.

"And once in Spanish," Mike reminded immediately, starting up a roar of laughter, as Puck dug through a bag Finn was pretty sure wasn't even his.

"Aw, yeah," He grinned deviously, pulling a new DVD out of the bag. "The 40 Year Old Virgin," he read out loud, cut off midway by a chorus of cheers, until it was Will's turn to vito the film.

"Puck, this is rated R."

"Yeah, and we're not six years old, man," Puck countered seriously, grabbing it back from Will's hands. "Plus I'm pretty sure that we've all seen this movie at least five times already, anyway, right guys?" Puck questioned loudly, getting a sea of raised hands in response. "You can't shelter us from things we've already seen, William."

Finn grinned softly as he realized that Mister Schuester had obviously never learned how to say no.

Rachel and Puck were an odd couple at best, a ticking time bomb for disaster, that never seemed to explode. The rest of them had placed actual bets, given them nine days at most, until Rachel's incessant nagging and Puck's notorious cheating drove them apart. But, after three weeks without so much as a hostile glance in each other's direction, Finn began to notice the nagging had been minimal, and the cheating just... wasn't happening.

He watched them now as Steve Carell yelled something about Kelly Clarkson on the screen, and was amused by how comfortable Rachel seemed leaning against Puck. Sometimes, the best couples were the least likely, he supposed.

Will and Emma were sitting awkwardly close, and Finn wondered silently if they realized how much more uncomfortable it was for their students to watch them try to be subtle and professional, than it would be if they just, like, made out already. Finn got that there were rules and shit, they were the authority figures here, and it wouldn't exactly look good on them if they started acting like teenagers. But, even so, not a single person in the room didn't know that they were dating, and trying to pretend like it wasn't true was just plain tedious.

Quinn and Brittany had presented a thousand and eight confusions in Finn's mind. He couldn't recall them ever being exceptionally close friends, really, even when the football team and the cheerleaders would all go out to party together. They were good to each other, sure. No animosity or dislike, anyhow. But, never before had he seen them like they were now, with Brittany's head resting against Quinn's shoulder, like it was the most natural and comfortable thing in the world.

It was then that Finn became itchingly aware of the feeling of being watched. His eyes scanned the room to nothing but a group of people watching stupid comedy, until finally; he sourced it.

Santana was glaring at him almost judgingly, eyes breaking from his face only to lock on Kurt's, before flitting back.

Finn's heart stuttered uncomfortably under the stress of her attention, and he thought silently for a moment, sure that there'd been something to do with Santana that he'd been nervous about.

"Shit," He cursed softly, eyes dropping away, as he forced them onto the screen.

Kurt turned beside him from his spot on the floor, where he and Finn were sitting with their backs against the bottom of the couch behind them, with Mercedes curled up along with Artie and Sam above them.

Finn shifted his eyes sideways, turning only slightly towards Kurt, looking over his face and remembering why Santana's focus on him had been so nerve-wracking. "Wh... what do I do?" He whispered softly, words barely audible under the laughter that had broke out through the rest of the room.

"About wh--" Kurt's questioning was cut short, as he too finally found himself being stared down by a Cheerio. "Oh."

Finn gulped loudly, almost comically, really, as he kept his back turned toward Santana, unable to look her in the eye. It was like she knew things Finn didn't, and that was, well... it wasn't good.

Last time he'd been on the receiving end of a stare like that, he'd wound up with his arm around a Hummel. Looked like now would be no different.

"Can... can I... sit closer to you?" Kurt asked shakily, and Finn bit his lip softly as he felt a brief flash of anger rush through his chest. Kurt had said that this would be easy, that no one but Blaine would ever find out. Kurt had said that all Finn'd have to do was lie a little, nothing more. Kurt hadn't said that Finn would find himself in situations like this, all close and cuddly and... and that was when it hit him.

The tiny, meaningless, nearly missable moment in the auditorium wouldn't be enough for Santana. Not enough for anyone, really. If Finn took one big leap, rather than a dozen tiny ones, maybe, well... maybe he wouldn't have to make so many. In his mind, the logic was there; one unmistakable show of public affection, versus twenty questionable flirtations?

He could do this. And Kurt would have to let him.

Finn inhaled sharply, eyes never leaving the television, as he tensed his muscles in preparation for the onslaught of... whatever would be headed his way.

Kurt's sweater was soft as Finn wrapped an arm around him, sliding the other under his legs, pushing and pulling at him until he had a lapful of Hummel.

Kurt's eyes were wide as he suddenly found himself sitting in the quarterback's lap, and Finn shook his head slowly, eyes pleading Kurt just to relax and play along. It made sense, he was sure that it did. If anyone questioned their relationship now, it could be brushed off with a rebuttal of; 'yeah, but remember that time Kurt sat in Finn's lap?'.

To Finn's surprise, no one spoke up about it. He was sure that everyone had noticed it happen, since the room had fallen silent, before being filled with the sounds of awkward throat clearing.

Finn had been prepared for at least a smart remark from Puck, who... was only... smiling now?

"Finn," Kurt whispered softly, and Finn could feel Kurt's pulse pounding dangerously hard in his thighs. Was that even natural?

"Just watch the movie, Kurt," Finn answered back quietly, wrapping both arms around Kurt's waist, focusing on the film in a desperate attempt to ignore the fact that his hands were pressed warmly against Kurt's stomach.

The pay off was sweet though, an instant flood of relief, as finally, Santana turned away.

"You guys, it's almost midnight," Will whined childishly, pushing up on his nose the glasses that no one really knew he even had.

"Yeah, and it's also Friday," Quinn countered smugly, a warm smile spreading over her face as she worked on tying her snow boots, which Finn had a feeling Kurt was about to break out over in three... two...

"Oh my Gucci," Kurt's words were broken by a long silence between each, as he rushed forward to literally drop at Quinn Fabray's feet. "Where did you get these, they're fabulous..."

Finn smiled softly as he zipped his jacket, not bothering to pay notice to the sick sort of wonder that came with knowing Kurt Hummel as well as he obviously did. He'd never been in tune with things like jewelry, clothes, or, well, boots. Even when Quinn had been in her super high-fashion phase while they dated, not once had he been able to pick up on what brands were cool, or which colors were in season. Now though, when he'd hit the mall with Kurt, it was often him who'd point out racks of clothes that seemed to be tailor made for his step brother.

He paid no attention as to why that could be.

The air wasn't exceptionally cold, as they poured out of the cabin, and into the black night around it. The lights from the building spilled over the snowbanks, a soft warm glow, as they immediately went to work on snowmen and snowballs. They didn't get this much snow in town, not enough to do things with, anyhow. Finn was sure he hadn't built a snowfort since he was seven, when Puck's dad had taught him how.

"Finn?" His childish focus was broken by the sound of his name somewhere from his right, and he turned to find Mercedes, all wrapped up in a shiny purple jacket, with a contrasting expression of worry on her face.

"Hey, 'Cedes, what's up?" He grinned widely, glad to be talking to someone who wasn't Kurt.

He wasn't actually angry at him, because... he got where the guy was coming from. He'd agreed to help him, and as awkward as it was at times, Finn would never be able to live with himself if he denied Kurt his assistance where it was perfectly possible to be given.

But, even still, talking to him had become tense and awkward, in ways that had nothing to do with Kurt at all, really. It was more the looks and soft whispers from all sides of the planet, every time they'd stand a little too close. It was nerve-wracking and stressful, and... and that was when Finn remembered the look on Mercedes' face.

"Can we talk for a minute?" She asked finally, arms over her chest, as Finn dropped the snowball he'd been working on rolling. "Like, in private?"

The back of the cabin was a tall, flat, undetailed wall of wood. No windows, no awnings, no features whatsoever. It was an almost institutionally uncharacterized setting, which was offset by the level of emotion and personality in Mercedes' words.

"When did you and Kurt start..." She trailed off questioningly, and Finn held back a wince as he realized belatedly what this talk was going to be about.

"Uh, a... about a week ago?" He tried shakily, completely unsure on what Kurt had told Blaine. He made a mental note to corner him later, to sort out their facts before speaking any more about it.

"Finally," Mercedes sighed deeply, rolling her eyes before shaking her head. "I always knew you'd end up together, you know," she insisted with a grin, one which didn't quite reach her eyes.

Finn swallowed deeply as he went over her words, unsure how to respond, as she continued to speak.

"I trust you Finn," she started seriously, using a gloved hand to flip her straightened hair over her shoulder. "I know you won't ever mean to hurt him, but... but you mean more to him than I think you even know," she continued easily, as if her words weren't crushing Finn's entire universe. "I mean, he's been in love with you since the day you first met, you know that? And I'm not even... talkin' about some stupid crush, I mean, I'm sayin' that he used to change his clothes like eight times before school in the morning, until he was sure that you'd like his outfit," she grinned playfully, and Finn's eyes went wide as he found himself drowning in his own silence.

"And when it was your birthday last month, we went to the mall eleven times while Kurt tried to figure out what to get you. He kept talkin' about how it's impossible to get something for the man who's missing nothing, or... or somethin' like that," she laughed, and Finn's stomach flipped as he recalled the details of his birthday. His birthday less than a month ago.

Less than a month ago.

"Has he been talking about me lately?" Finn asked suddenly, unable to keep the words from tumbling out, as he shoved both hands deep into his pockets.

"Of course," Mercedes confirmed incredulously, as if Kurt not talking about him was a thought too insane to consider. "God, last weekend must have been right before you two... right?" She asked vaguely, and Finn just nodded for lack of a better answer. "He slept at my house on Saturday night, and I swear to god, he did nothing but talk about how beautiful you are," she confessed casually, and Finn's breath hitched as his current situation with Kurt just got a whole lot more uncomfortable.

Finn's entire body was flushed as he took long, wide strides around the cabin, finding Kurt in the front yard with Tina, Quinn and Brittany, working on building a snow fort that had grown to be truly immaculate. He had no clue what to say to Kurt, knowing that some sort of confrontation had to be made, but not knowing how exactly to do it.

Kurt had lied to him, clearly, four months ago when he'd insisted to Finn that while yes, he couldn't pretend to ignore the fact that he still found Finn physically attractive, the dynamic between them had changed entirely, and Kurt felt nothing for him now, aside from a brotherly sort of bond.

Last time Finn checked, most dudes didn't fill entire slumber parties with gossip about how 'delicious' their brother was.

"Kurt?" Finn questioned loudly, coming to stand behind him, towering over into his personal space.

"Finn," Kurt smiled warmly, and Finn faltered for a moment, wishing desperately that he didn't have to do this. And usually, maybe, he wouldn't. He'd let it slide, perhaps, because, after all, it wasn't like this was a situation they'd never gone through before.

But, now was different. Now was Kurt using him, tricking him into putting his hands all over him, and... and that just wasn't okay. "We need to talk," he insisted seriously, wrapping his hand around Kurt's arm, pulling him around the wall of snow blocks that'd been put up in record speed.

The wall cut most of the light from from the cabin, with only random, yellow beams making their way through the gaps in the snow.

Finn took a sharp breath inward, studying Kurt's face, which was cast in shadow, as he tried to gather his words.

"I talked with Mercedes," he started finally, "She wanted to... I guess... that was her version of the shotgun talk," he shrugged in confusion, realizing that their conversation had ended up drifting far from the 'don't hurt him' sentiment that Mercedes had started with.

"Oh, bless her," Kurt grinned happily, and Finn's stomach clenched as he realized he was about to wipe that smile right off his face.

"Yeah, well... she said some other stuff, too," he confessed quickly, forcing the words out as the sounds of the rest of the club laughing and screaming distanced slightly, echoing off into the night sky.

"...Oh?" Kurt questioned slowly, standing perfectly straight now, as his eyes darkened with an emotion Finn had seem on him too many times to count.

Fear.

"Oh," Finn nodded, wishing desperately that he didn't have to do this. "Kurt, you... you lied to me, man," he started finally, crossing the border of having any hope of turning back now. "You told me you were over it. You told me you were over me. You... is... is Blaine even into you? Is any of this real? Is all of this a lie? Is--"

"Finn," Kurt started in shock, biting out the name like it was some sort of curse. "No!" He exclaimed finally, shaking his head as he floundered for words. "That's... I..." His voice shook and wavered, and Finn bit his lip hard as he feared suddenly that Kurt was going to cry.

"I didn't lie, Finn," he insisted after a moment, hands balled into fists at his side as his eyes locked on Finn's face. "I... I am over you," he declared again, honesty ringing through his tone in a way that had Finn softening slightly. "I just... you're beautiful, Finn," he admitted softly, eyes dropping to his boots, which were half-covered by snow.

"Kurt--"

"You're... you're good to me, and you understand me, and you're... you're funny and sweet and charming, and... and you watched the entire Judy Garland boxset with me when I was sick last month, and... I... I love you, Finn," he rambled awkwardly, voice broken and cracked as he obviously fought to hold back tears.

Finn's body tensed at the words, the three words he was sure he'd never have to fear coming from Kurt again. "Kurt, you know I--"

"No, Finn, keep listening, okay?" Kurt requested softly, sounding for all the world like a scared and broken child. "I... I never did stop loving you, okay? I've never been able to look at you and not see the man of my dreams. But Finn, I... I did stop thinking I had a chance," he continued, and Finn felt physically unable to move, as Kurt's breath hitched around his words, threatening a panic attack.

"I know you're straight, Finn, and I know that... that we're brothers now, and... and that when we share a drink, that's all it is. And when we lay on the couch together, it doesn't give me permission to touch you just because you're in reach. And I know that when I go into the bathroom to brush my hair while you're in the shower, I... Finn--"

Finn's eyes slipped shut as Kurt's words broke off into painful sobs, and he fought with himself for a moment, wanting more than anything to wrap his arms around him, but afraid that doing so would only make things worse.

Apparently, the goodness of his heart won out over the big gay freak out in his mind, because within three seconds, he had both arms around Kurt's trembling body, pulling him close to his chest, as he stared off into the night sky, counting stars until Kurt finally calmed against him.

"I'm sorry, Finn," Kurt sighed out softly, words shaken as he hid his face against Finn's jacket.

Finn swallowed the lump in his throat as his heart flipped in his chest, while his brain rattled off a list of things he'd never paid mind to before.

Why did he insist on him and Kurt sharing a couch during movie night, when their parents were always available to sit with their children respectively? Why had he decided that it was perfectly acceptable to wear nothing but a towel after his showers for an hour, maybe more, while Kurt was across the room? And more importantly, why the fuck had he ever thought it was okay to fall asleep in Kurt's bed on nights he was away, consciously knowing that the smell of his body spray would be all over Kurt's pillows and blankets when he would come back?

He fought down a sick sort of swoop in his stomach, as he recalled the way he'd called Kurt a cocktease. And suddenly... he couldn't quite bring himself to stay mad, because maybe that term hit a little closer to home than he'd ever even realized.

"It's okay, Kurt," he insisted softly, mind spinning with revelations he had no clue how to handle. Did he like Kurt being hot for him? Did he... did he like Kurt?

He shifted his feet in the snow, feeling his legs give out under him, as his foot found a patch of ice under the powder.

They went down quickly, tumbling awkwardly into a tangle of limbs, with Finn laying over Kurt's body, trapping him under him, against the fresh white snow.

Finn opened his eyes quickly, which had evidently fallen shut in panic as they fell, to find Kurt staring up at him with wide eyes, hands pressed against Finn's chest, in a half-assed attempt to get him to move.

Finn tensed immediately over Kurt's body, looking down at his flushed face, eyes still watery and red, all because of him. He did this to Kurt. He always did.

Kurt was stupidly in love with him, and Finn couldn't help but be a little endeared by that, despite his better judgement. Kurt had seen at him at his absolute worst; sick, sweaty, cranky, and tired. He knew about how he'd wake up at three in the morning, every morning, just to eat a handful of Cracker Jacks. He knew about how he'd put off his homework until the night before it was due, and feel sickeningly guilty after looking at porn. He knew about how he secretly liked to listen to the CD's Quinn had left with him ages ago, and how it took him three tries to properly tie his shoes.

He knew that Finn Hudson wasn't perfect, not the flawless, popular quarterback that everyone else expected him to be. He knew that Finn sang too loud and showered too long, and... and he loved him for it anyway. Why Finn was letting himself brush that all off, well... he really had no clue.

"Thank you, Kurt," he broke the silence finally, one leg between Kurt's, with his hands braced on either side of Kurt's face.

"F-for what?" Kurt asked fearfully, physically trembling against Finn's body.

Finn took a deep breath as he studied him, realizing for the first time that he wouldn't be looking at him quite the same after this. "For loving me," he finished finally, words soft and low as he dropped lower over Kurt's body, before doing a pushup to launch himself up.

"You're gonna freeze if you stay there," he warned simply, reaching one hand down in extension to Kurt, who accepted it tentatively, using it as leverage to pull himself back up.

They walked back into the cabin in silence, with Kurt's face streaked in tears, and Finn's chest rattling with nerves.

Something had changed between them.

Finn just wasn't sure what.

Finn let his mug of hot chocolate warm his fingers as he wrapped his hand around it, pressing himself into the overstuffed couch, as Kurt sat tensely in the armchair across the room. Everyone else had laid out on the floor, in front of the fire that was crackling in the fireplace, as they tried to let the warmth of the flames dry and warm their skin.

Will was complaining about a sore back, a fact which no one was willing to let slip by without cracking a few old-age jokes about first. But, the reality was that they all cared about Mister Schue too much to let him lay on the floor with a sore back.

"Kurt," Finn called out softly, getting Kurt's attention over the crowd on the floor. He gestured for him to come over, moving sideways on the couch to leave enough room for Kurt to fit himself in.

Kurt's expression faltered for a moment, flashing a thousand and one emotions before he finally made his move, to let Will claim the chair he'd been in.

"I can sit on the floor, you know," Kurt insisted softly, pressing himself into the corner of the couch, as far away from Finn as possible.

Finn shook his head, forcing one hand away from his mug, in order to wrap his newly-freed arm around Kurt's shoulders. "No when there's a perfectly good space here next to me," he concluded softly, unsure of what exactly he was doing. But somehow... it just felt right.

"I'm not sharing a bed with anyone," Puck denied seriously, and no one had the stupidity to fight him on it. Will had broken them up by gender, sending the girls into one room, and the boys into another, as he and Emma tried and failed to hide the fact that they'd be sharing a room anyhow.

There were only four beds in their room, meaning that two people would have to sleep together in two beds. For the most part, the guys had all wondered lewdly if the girls were finding themselves in the same situation, and who'd be sharing beds over there. The conversation had stayed on Quinn and Brittany for a while, before turning to Finn and Kurt.

"You boys can sleep together, I assume?" Mike asked simply, and Finn sort of loved him for it. The question didn't come out as some sort of judgement or cheap shot, just a clear and honest question, which made it easier to accept.

"Yeah, sure," Finn nodded quickly, because as bad an idea it may have been, he was fairly certain that no matter what happened, he'd be sharing a bed with one of these guys, anyhow. And if he had to do it, it was gonna be with Kurt.

And besides, it wasn't like they hadn't been sleeping ten feet away from each other every night for the last half year anyway, right?

In the end, for reasons unknown, Sam and Mike ended up bedding together also. It was hilariously awkward watching them fight for blankets all night, as they all stayed up talking, about everything and nothing, as Kurt laid painfully bored beside Finn.

"What's up?" Finn asked softly, turning away from the conversation about the dress Santana had worn to Jared Rosser's party the previous weekend.

"I love talking about fashion, Finn," Kurt started slowly, "Just... not in the capacity currently being used."

Finn laughed softly, shifting in the bed to slide down on the mattress, laying flat beside Kurt, as the details of Santana's hemline continued to be discussed around them.

"It is rather mindless," Finn agreed playfully, wondering when exactly talking about a hot girl's short skirt had actually become boring to him.

The conversation rattled off around them as Finn and Kurt quickly found themselves in their own private world, talking about a unique blend of subjects that only they could ever pull off. Football games, Prada sales, hamburger joints, magazine subscriptions, high speed car chases, facial masks, and Finn never once wondered how they'd gotten so close.

Mike and Sam fell asleep quickly, and Puck and Artie were rather fast to follow. Kurt had been growing more quiet, replies shorter and less enthusiastic, and Finn finally stopped speaking entirely, as the digital clock across the room rolled past three in the morning. Kurt was still awake beside him, that much was certain, because during months of sharing a room, Finn had learned to pick up on Kurt's multiple breathing patterns.

"You still upset?" Finn asked quietly, words less than a whisper, for fear of anyone else hearing.

"Just... really, really sorry," Kurt answered back sincerely, and Finn wasn't sure if he was grateful or spiteful toward the fact of not being able to see his face.

Finn let the silence burn long and heavy between them, as he rattled through a list of a hundred and five things that he could possibly ever say. Some were logical, some not so much. A few had a some validity, but were composed mostly of nothing but awkward bullshit.

He knew what he wanted to tell Kurt; that he understood his feelings, and appreciated all the effort he'd been putting into making Finn truly believe that he was over him. But, it was painful to know that all the times Finn had believed to be casual, Kurt's heart was silently breaking into a million pieces. He wondered then how often he'd shattered him.

Finn bit his bottom lip softly, closing his eyes as he pictured Kurt's face, and his hand moved almost of it's own accord, finding it's way to Kurt's hip, before sliding along his heated stomach.

Kurt's breath hitched audibly beside him, and Finn felt literally ill under the stress of his frayed nerves and spinning mind. He didn't know what he was doing, or what exactly it was that he even wanted. He only knew that Kurt deserved to be loved. And Finn would rather die before he let anyone else do that.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Kurt's voice was shaken and hitched, as Finn shifted closer, laying on his side, facing Kurt, as he spread his palm widely over the base of Kurt's stomach.

"I..." Finn trailed off immediately, having no idea how to answer such a simple question. "Tell me to stop," he requested vaguely, meaning for more words to come out with it.

Kurt's responding silence was heart wrenching, and Finn worried momentarily that he was making a huge mistake, until Kurt's hand found his, sliding over it, holding it flat against his body.

"Please don't," Kurt begged softly, and Finn Hudson realized then that Kurt's feelings for him weren't so one-sided anymore.

He woke up to a sun too bright, and felt momentarily confused by the feel of an unfamiliar mattress under him, and the soft shuffle of other people moving all around him. It was then that he realized he wasn't alone in his bed, and he opened his eyes to find Kurt laying next to him, awake and distracted, with Finn's arm still wrapped around his waist.

He took a deep breath suddenly, pulling Kurt's attention over to him, and their eyes locked in the morning light, as Kurt rolled onto his side to face Finn in a mirror image.

They didn't speak as they laid pressed against each other, legs tangled under the covers, as Mike got dressed across the room.

Kurt's face was flushed in a way that was somehow devious, and Finn wished desperately to know what was happening in his mind.

His hand had ended up on Kurt's hip after he'd moved, and Finn let it move now, trailing over the small of Kurt's back.

Kurt swallowed deeply, breath hitching as his own hand ran up Finn's arm, a contact that was innocuous and familiar, but heart pounding all the same.

"Guys?" Will's voice broke the silence, following the creak the door had made when he'd opened it. "It's almost noon, and the girls are all up," he stated softly, voice cracked with sleep, before hitching into a gasp, as Puck threw a pillow at him.

"'Sup, man?" Puck asked roughly, voice wrecked on sleep, as he sided next to Finn at the counter in the kitchen.

"Um... breakfast?" Finn answered dumbly, as he waited for his bagels to toast.

"So, you and Kurt?" Puck asked directly, and Finn felt an unnamed emotion wash over him, as he was relieved to finally be getting it over with, but tensed to actually have to.

He cleared his throat awkwardly as he leaned against the counter, reaching back for the container of cream cheese. "Uh, yeah," he admitted finally, wondering which was worse; lying to protect one of your best friends, or lying directly to the other. "Th-thanks for not... you know, giving us a hard time about it," he tacked on clumsily, unsure why he felt the need to say it. After all... he wasn't really in the clear yet.

Puck just shrugged enormously, brushing a hand over his Mohawk, before finally cracking a smile. "Well, I mean... I've had like a year to get used to it, I guess," he explained vaguely, and Finn cocked his head to the side as he studied the face of his best friend.

"What do you mean?" He asked tentatively, as the heat from the toaster warmed his back.

"Well, like, dude!" Puck started confusingly, and Finn swallowed deeply as he wondered if he even wanted to hear the rest. "You've been lookin' at him all dopey for like... eight months now, man. And he makes you lunch, and you, like, clean the slushie off his face and shit. Man, I'm not blind."

Finn would have been sure his heart had flipped, if he hadn't learned in health class that week that it was physically impossible.

"Uh, no... wha-"

"We all knew it was gonna happen, man. The way you look at each other? It freaked me out for a while at first, but... whatever, man. Whatever makes you happy, I guess, since I'm a good friend, and all," Puck concluded simply, as if his words weren't causing Finn to trip uncomfortably down miles and miles of memories wherein he and Kurt communicated wordlessly, shared lunches, shared gossip, texted each other from across the room, and... and then it happened...

Kurt Hummel got out of bed.

He walked wordlessly into the kitchen, hair tousled slightly, skin flushed with sleep under Finn's black Fender t-shirt. It was twenty sizes too large on him, and the casual, faded black cotton was something Finn was sure Kurt would have called an abomination had it been any other article of clothing.

Puck's eyes ran over it slowly, before his mouth twitched into a smirk, and Finn wasn't sure if he wanted to die, or...

"That looks good on you."

Or be honest with Kurt and himself for once.

Puck's words echoed through his mind for the rest of the day after that, and Finn dissected them continually, trying to decide how apparently, his Neanderthal of a best friend had picked up on something Finn hadn't.

It was there, he supposed; all the touches and looks that Puck had accused him of. And the more Finn thought about it, the more he realized why he never had before.

He loved Kurt, he could admit that. He loved him like a brother, like a best friend, like a valued member of his Glee Club, and one hell of a lab partner. But beyond all of that, there was something else, too. Something that Puck had been right about.

Finn Hudson was in love with Kurt Hummel.

The cabin had fallen relatively silent around eight o'clock that night. The kids were in a comfortable food-coma as they warmed themselves by the fire, and Will and Emma were staring at each other intensely across the room. Some kind of psychic mind communication that had to do with some really important question Will had asked Emma out by the frozen lake earlier.

The calm quiet was broken by screams shortly after, though, and Finn jumped on reflex, because he knew that voice.

"Rachel?" He called out frantically, knowing in the back of his mind that it'd be nothing more than a bug, or a mouse, or... or a scratch on her Barbara Streisand disk. But, it filled him with terror and discomfort anyway, because... maybe he'd stopped being in love with Rachel a long, long time ago, but he'd always love her.

That was simply fact.

"Rachel!" He cried out suddenly, as the girl in question ran straight into his chest. "Whoa, shit," Finn's eyes went wide as he realized that Rachel was crying. Sobbing, really, as she trembled in his arms. "What happened? What's wrong? Wha--"

"Puck!" Kurt slid up beside Finn, looking into the open doorway that Rachel had just flown out of.

Puck was in bed, naked, as far as Finn could tell, and the Cheerio skirt on the floor most certainly did not belong to Miss Berry.

"Puck!" Finn echoed angrily, because what he had with Rachel had been good. She took care of him, and he was good to her. They balanced each other out perfectly, and... what the fuck did Santana have that Rachel didn't?

The moment moved quickly after that, with Quinn rushing in to take Rachel away, Brittany chastising Santana about the issue, and Sam pushing his way into the bedroom to bite Puck's head off. Will showed up eventually, chewing Puck out for breaking the no sex rule, and within minutes... it was all over.

Finn stood silently in the hall as everyone rushed around him, going off in their separate directions to bake cookies, watch movies, and play stupid card games, like none of this mattered, and maybe... maybe it didn't.

Finn had quickly learned that while high school romances could feel like the beginning and end of the world, all they were were flings. People grew, people changed, college acceptance letters were received, and trips across the country were made. Five years from now, Rachel wouldn't remember Puck's first name, and Puck wouldn't remember Rachel's last. Mike would forget Tina's favorite band, and Quinn wouldn't recall how she and Brittany first met.

It was depressing and hurtful, but Finn couldn't shake it. A decade from now, when they all showed up at their high school reunion, the only couple who would be in tact was... Will and Emma.

Because Finn had figured out what Will had asked.

He'd caught the glint on Miss Pillsbury's finger as the afternoon sun streamed in behind her earlier. He hadn't said anything, to them or his friends, as she did nothing but smile, and smile, and smile.

What they had was good. What they had was real. They weren't using each other for sex or popularity. They weren't climbing up the high school food chain, or trying to impress the football team by making another notch in their belts. They were living together and breathing together, seeing each other through the good and the bad. They weren't running when things would get scary, or ignoring the issues they had to work out.

It was then that Finn realized he'd been undeniably blessed. He'd been given a chance at that, after two relationships gone horribly wrong. He'd been given a best friend who understood him fully, a partner who'd taught him how to tie ties, and fold pocket squares. He'd been given someone to watch over him, to stick with him in the real world, rather than just the halls of McKinley. He'd been given a true love.

He'd been given Kurt Hummel.

"Kurt?" Finn called out softly, stepping into the small library at the back of the cabin. What kind of cabin had a library, anyway?

"Hey," Kurt looked up from his spot on the floor, where he was sitting with his back against a shelf of books.

"Hey," Finn echoed simply, grinning crookedly as he moved to slide down the shelf, coming to rest beside his friend. "What are you doing in here?"

Kurt sighed heavily, in a way that was painfully long-suffering, before he finally spoke. "I hate the drama, you know?" He asked by way of reply, and Finn just nodded as he let him carry on. "I hate how... every week, it's a new hook up, a new break up, a new bitch fight, blackmail, cheating, scandals, ...drama."

Finn let his head hit the books behind him as he stared up at the ceiling; dark, wooden planks that seemed to stretch on forever. "I was thinking the same thing earlier, you know?" He started honestly. "I... I think I used to like that stuff. Like, I thought it was exciting, or something" he admitted, and in the corner of his eye, he caught Kurt nodding. "If it wasn't happening to me, I mean. But... but now it's just tiring, it's... depressing, I don't know why we can't just all... grow up and be happy," he sighed shakily, unable to unsee the future his mind had supplied for him and Kurt earlier.

"I don't expect that happiness is part of my life plan, really," Kurt started dryly, voice low and rough and lacking anything emotional. "I mean, I... I know what I want, and what I can do to get it. But... but there are some parts that I just could never possibly reach, you know? Like I... I know I'll beautiful and fabulous forever," he grinned softly, a playful smirk that warmed Finn's heart. "And I'll always have Mercedes, who's the best friend I could ever ask for. And I'll likely get a respectable job, and be accepted to perform in local theatre. I'll get a good boyfriend, I'm sure, but... but these are all things I'd settle for, Finn. Not the things I truly want, not the things that would make me happy," he trailed off slowly, words losing steam, as he reached up to brush his hair to the side.

Finn looked at him studiously, unsure why, but knowing this moment should always be remembered. "What would make you happy, Kurt?" He asked quizzically, because he genuinely felt the need to know.

Kurt smiled in a way that was soft and sad, as he took a deep and much-needed breath. "I want... I want to be so beautiful that I can model in Teen Vogue," he admitted wistfully, and Finn smiled at the thought.

"I've read a few of those, you know," Finn confessed almost sheepishly. "Well, I looked at the pictures, anyway. From the ones you have beside your bed. You're... you're way more gorgeous than any of the boys I've seen in there," Finn risked awkwardly, feeling like he was suddenly tumbling down a hill head-first.

Kurt stammered for a minute, floundering for words, until forcing himself to continue. "And I... I wanna have the best group of friends imaginable. Inseparable. I want--"

"Like Sex and The City?" Finn asked knowingly, remembering the way Kurt would ramble on and on about the flawed but unbreakable friendship those chicks had, after each time he'd force Finn through a marathon of it.

Kurt smiled brightly, nodding before continuing. "And I want to perform in big name shows, with big name directors, and--"

"Broadway," Finn supplied obviously, because that was clearly the desired destination for any young, gay boy who'd had his name built in lights for the low, low price of three years of allowance.

"God, Finn," Kurt laughed suddenly, eyes wide and joyful as he turned to look at him. "You know me so well. And that's... that kind of brings me to my next point," he started with less enthusiasm, growing solemn and serious now, as he continued on. "I want to have a boyfriend who knows me completely. Inside and out. Doesn't have to ask what's wrong, because he just knows. Doesn't have to worry about what to do for my birthday, because he knows. I just want to... find someone who will just love me for me," he finished brokenly, eyes dropping to the deep, red carpet beneath them.

Finn swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered why he'd gone looking for Kurt in the first place.

"Re... remember your last birthday, Kurt?" He started awkwardly, launching into a speech that was completely unplanned. "Uh, m-my mom," he carried on, wincing at his stutter, as he willed it to stop, "She, uh... she baked your least favorite cake, and your dad, he... he got you tickets to a theatre production you'd already seen seven times," he continued, forcing himself to keep sight of his point. "And I... I made you a pillowcase. Out of one of your mom's old dresses," he reminded sheepishly, huffing in amusement at the memory of that. "It was sewn horribly, and... and I know I didn't even wrap it, but... but you liked that, didn't you?"

"Oh god, Finn," Kurt sighed softly, closing his eyes as a flush washed over his face, accompanied by a soft and nostalgic smile. "It still smelled like her. And it was even a cute pattern," he laughed softly, before turning to face Finn again. "It was the best gift I've ever gotten Finn, I d--"

"Because I know you, Kurt," Finn interrupted, suddenly desperate to make his point. "I know you, and I care about you, and I... I love you, Kurt," he admitted clumsily, words tumbling out in a way he sure as hell hoped made sense. "I love yo--"

"I know you do, Fi--"

"No, Kurt, no. You don't know, because I didn't even know. I love you, Kurt, I... I love you the way that you love me," he confessed finally, feeling his chest tighten as Kurt's jaw dropped. "I... I don't even... I just know that you're good for me. And I'm good for you. And I can't even... begin to know how to handle having a boyfriend when I swear I'm not even actually gay, b-but I'm never gonna find anyone better for me than you are. Because that person doesn't exist, Kurt, there's... you're what I've been looking for, just... maybe... in the wrong body. B-but I don't care about that anymore, Kurt, I can't care about that, not when... when--"

"Finn," Kurt gasped his name softly, eyes wide and shocked, as Finn's breath hitched.

"No, listen. Listen to me now, it's my turn," Finn insisted seriously, knowing that he was making an awkward mess of his words, but unable to stop the flow of them anyhow. "Quinn and Rachel, they... they had so many issues. So much shit wrong with them, but I... I learned to deal with those bad things, because the good things about them made it all worth it. For a while, anyway, I guess. But Kurt, you... there's nothing wrong with you. I mean, you're not perfect, but... you are to me. You're perfect to me, and... your only issue is that, well... you're a dude," Finn continued awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, before raising it in front of Kurt to silence him. "And after years of high school, of... all this cheating and backstabbing and drama, I just... I can't care about that anymore. You'd be good for me Kurt, and I'd be so good to you, and... Kurt... I love you," he admitted again, saying the words like they were an earth-shattering revelation.

"Finn," Kurt gasped out again, voice trembling and weak as Finn turned to face him, seeing his eyes wide and wondering, like he was unsure or scared, like... like Finn was about to walk away and yell 'gotcha' at any minute.

Finn moved slowly, body thick with molasses, as he raised one hand to rest along the side of Kurt's face. He let his thumb trail lightly over Kurt's jaw, before leaning forward to press his lips to Kurt's softly, testingly, and... and it wasn't bad.

He pulled away without regret, heart hammering in his chest, as he ran his hand down the side of Kurt's face, resting on his shoulder for a time that felt like forever.

"You... you're serious... about this?" Kurt asked shakily, breath hitching continually as he sat facing Finn, hand on Finn's arm, as the sun went down outside.

Finn swallowed deeply, eyes trailing over Kurt's lips as he nodded. "If... if you still want me? Uh..." He started without grace, smirking crookedly as Kurt slowly did the same. "I... I want you too."

Kurt bit his bottom lip softly, and Finn's eyes tracked the movement, before the moment was broken entirely by Mister Schue's voice.

Again.

"Hey guys?" He called out tentatively, and Finn tensed for a moment as he realized he was legitimately about to be busted by his Spanish teacher for making out with his own step-brother.

"Uh, yeah," Finn called back, flushing deeply as he scrambled away from Kurt, too slow for Mister Schue's liking.

"Guys, really?" He asked almost smugly, shaking his head as Finn could do nothing but shrug.

Finn's big gay freak out hit seven hours later, despite the fact that he and Kurt had been holding hands and blushing around each other all evening. That had been different though, because... that hadn't taken place in a bed.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Kurt to keep his hands to himself, really, or even that he couldn't trust himself to. It was just... well, maybe it was that, because... Finn couldn't exactly pinpoint any other reason.

The blankets warmed quickly over them, and Finn closed his eyes to the sounds of Puck and Mike arguing over some video game. He'd left about five inches of space between him and Kurt, and he wondered idly if the other guys would notice if that space just happened to disappear somehow.

"Kurt?" Finn questioned quietly, rolling to face his friend when he replied.

"Finn."

He said the name with a soft and unmistakable reverence, a care so deep that Finn suddenly didn't give a fuck if the other guys noticed anything happening in their bed. He smiled softly as he slid one arm between the mattress and Kurt's body, wrapping it around him to pull him close.

"How are you?" He asked seriously, knowing that the question was so much more than a conversation starter for once.

"Uh," Kurt's eyes were wide as he smiled bashfully, "well... I've been dreaming about having you like this for three years, and... and now it's happening, so... considering that fact, I'd say I'm rather well," he teased playfully, and Finn's insecurity melted at the sight of Kurt's smile.

"I'm sorry I'm an idiot," he apologized bashfully, referring to all the times he'd let Kurt down, hurt him by letting him believe that Finn had no interest in him.

"It's half the reason why I love you," Kurt countered easily, and Finn was warmed by the simplicity in which the word 'love' could be shared between them. With Rachel and Quinn, it'd always felt scary to say, like he was doing something wrong, or was about to be caught in a lie. But with Kurt... it was just easy.

"And what's the other half?" Finn asked smugly, wrapping both arms around Kurt now, as he pressed their bodies tightly together.

Kurt's reasoning was divided into a hundred separate reasons, each one representing a tiny fraction of the way he loved Finn. Some were ridiculous (how he ate the blue Smarties last, how he'd painted his locker combination right onto his lock, how he could remember his mom's birthday, but would forget her age). Others were more serious, but most were just... a reminder of why this was right.

Kurt knew things about him that no one ever had before. He noticed tiny details, casual interests and things he himself hadn't even realized he'd been doing. Kurt loved him irrevocably, unconditionally, and that was when Kurt's speech finally broke.

"Uh..." He stammered for a moment, face flushing slightly, as Finn pulled him closer, tangling their legs in a way that was on the wrong side of innocent.

"This okay?" He asked nervously, because as sure as he was that he really did want it, cuddling like this with another teenage boy was still a little nerve wracking.

"Oh, Finn," Kurt sighed softly, words almost a moan. "It's... it's more than okay. I just... my heart is... I think I can feel it in my head right now,"he confessed sheepishly, and Finn smiled warmly as he pressed forward to brush his lips against Kurt's.

"Get used to it," he suggested quite honestly, because no way, no how, was he ever going to leave.

-End-